Inheritance
by Soledad
Summary: Part 2 of the 'Anarch Chronicles'. Sequel to 'Daughter of the Night'. Archon, Julian Luna, Stevie Ray and Sorrel have a cameo appearance.
1. Chapter 1

**INHERITANCE 1**

**by** **Soledad**

**A "Pathways in the Dark" story**

**Part 02A of "The Anarch Chronicles". Follows "Daughter of the Night".**

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

**Rating:** Adults only, please.

**Summary:** Salvador Garcia returns to the States and goes to San Francisco to pick up Valeria. She provides him with a surprise.

**Author's notes:**

Archon Raine, the Prince of San Francisco, his bodyguard, his Enforcer and Juan Diego Sorrel are taken from the short-lived TV-series _Kindred – The Embraced_. Whenever RPG and TV-canon contradict, I go with the TV-canon, as the series was what made me interested in this particular universe to begin with.

The description of the events during the Spanish Civil War follows Salvador Garcia's own words in _An Anarch Manifesto_, with a few modifications. My heartfelt thanks to Aislynn Crowdaughter who's provided the original document.

**

* * *

Part One**

It had been almost a year since Salvador Garcia had last seen his mortal protégée, the heiress of the enormous Velez wealth. He'd been informed about her well-being, of course. There were always ways, and even though relations between the Clans Brujah (his own) and Ventrue (the one to which the owners of the LA law firm belonged that handled the young woman's affairs) were strained at best, business was business. Valeria had named Salvador as one of her guardians, and so the law firm _Navital & Waters_ dutifully sent him quartal reports, _poste restante_.

Besides, Phillipe Navital was surprisingly open-minded for a Ventrue, almost completely free of the usual Clan prejudices. Not exactly an Anarch, at least not formally, but definitely sympathetic to the cause. Such allies could be valuable, since they weren't obvious ones and thus often overlooked.

One of those dutiful reports had informed Salvador that – after a lengthy counselling session with her lawyers in LA – Valeria had chosen to live in Manzanita, near San Francisco, where her father had gained partial ownership of the _Old Mission Winery_. The co-owner, one José Amendola Sorrel, was a personal friend of the late Don Ottavio, and a fatherly figure to Valeria, with a son of her own age. She had named him as her other guardian, and in exchange, she was willing to provide the winery with he necessary financial infusion – within reasonable limits.

Salvador found the decision a good one. Even if it meant that – in order to get to Valeria – he had to enter the Domain of the Prince of San Francisco. Said Prince was an old and cruel Ventrue, particularly hostile towards the Brujah, especially the Anarch ones. There wasn't much Brujah presence in San Francisco, and those who were there in the first place, belonged to the lowest of the low. They particularly made up the local mob. Salvador despised them and mourned the fall of proud Brujah traditions. In his opinion, one had to fight and kill for a noble reason, like freedom or the protection of the poor and oppressed, not just because one _liked_ to kill. So he didn't even consider contacting his clansmen who lived out their unlives in the docks within Archon Raine's Domain.

He'd come to Manzanita unannounced, which was a definite risk. Even though it didn't lie within the city itself, Manzanita belonged to Archon's Domain, and the laws of the Camarilla demanded tat every trespassing vampire presented himself to the Prince of the city, asking permission to stay and hunt within its borders. Not that Salvador would particularly care for Camarilla laws and the wishes of any Ventrue Prince, but he had to be careful. Breaking the law would entitle the Prince to have him destroyed – or, at the very least, banned from the city forever.

He took that risk anyway, since he didn't intend to stay. He only wanted to pick up Valeria and drive with her back down to Los Angeles, where Alonzo was already preparing a safe haven for them. Valeria had intended to move to LA from the beginning, she only waited for Salvador to join her… and idea Salvador had firmly planted into her mind right after their encounter.

To tell the truth, Valeria hadn't been an easy one to influence, but Salvador knew how to play her secret longing for freedom and independence. He couldn't afford to let her slip from under his influence, though, since he'd also planned to groom her for the Clan, eventually. Even though that had to wait during the last year, as he'd been heavily occupied with Kindred politics, back in Europe.

The _Mano Negra_, the Anarch movement, had decided to use the mortal uprising against General Franco's rule of terror for an all-out war to break Camarilla power in Spain. That had been a vicious fight, added by their mortal brothers, many of them aware of the existence of vampires but not caring at all. They knew, as did the Anarch vampires, the real enemy: fascist authority, aided by the Prince and his Ventrue followers. It was in the fight, the rush of activity and action, that Salvador could sometimes forget his pain, the tragedy of his life, from poverty to painful death... and the resurrection as an undead warrior.

It had been during this fight that his Sire, Ferdinand, finally attacked the Prince of Barcelona. He'd been killed, but succeeded in destroying the Prince as he went. They tore each other apart, drinking each other's powerful blood as they struggled. It had been Ferdinand who won, and had the last draught of blood, but the Prince's progeny had descended on him. He'd been too weak from loss of his own Vitae, and they'd finished him off.

Salvador had hunted down the bastard with the forcibly taken Vitae of his Sire in his veins. He'd hunted the Ventrue bastard down, beaten him to bloody pulp and drained him completely. This savage act of vengeance had gained him a generation, as his opponent had been of Ancillae Blood – now he was even stronger, even more powerful than he'd been before, despite his relatively short time spent in the Dark. But he also had to realize that he and his _compadres_ had seriously underestimated the strength of the Camarilla in the Old World. It was time to seek out new hunting grounds.

He had chosen Los Angeles as his new home. It had been a logical choice. Nominally, the city was under Camarilla rule – more or less – ever since Don Sebastian Dominguez, a Toreador of the sixth generation, had proclaimed himself the Prince of the City, back in 1870. He's established his Domain as a Mecca for artists, and Kindred from every Clan had come to the city in droves. But as Don Sebastian's rule was practically limited to Downtown, the historical city centre, while other parts, like Hollywood for example, were firmly under Anarch control, LA had gradually become a harbour for Anarch Brujah who had overstayed their welcome in Europe; but also that of the more "elite" Kindred (usually Toreador) who could never find a social or artistic niche in other cities, especially in the Ventrue-dominated San Francisco.

Salvador had chosen East Los Angeles as his future Domain. The central east areas of the city, including Montebello, Pico Rivera, Monterey Park, South El Monte, Alhambra, San Gabriel, Rosemead, El Monte, Arcadia, and Temple City, were some of the poorest portions of L.A. and is mostly populated by immigrants from Central and South America and Mexico. There lived his natural followers, the ones he could recruit for the cause or even for the Clan. The revolution was most certainly not dead, just because they had suffered a crushing defeat in Spain. It was just about to get relocated. And Los Angeles would be the headquarters of the movement, now directed to the countries in Central America.

Thanks to the financial aid of Valeria, Salvador had managed to put aside a small amount of money – just enough to pay for his and Alonzo's journey to America and to buy a club in East LA. _A Taste of LA_ he named it, and he intended to operate it as a combination of an European-style coffee house (with coffee that actually _tasted_ as coffee, unlike the horrible blend preferred in the States) and as a travellers aid station for Kindred newly arrived to the city. It would also serve as a recruiting centre, for humans and Kindred alike, as Salvador hoped that Los Angeles could become a new Carthage, eventually – a place where Kindred and _Kine_ could live in peace again, with no need for fear. It was probably an idealistic idea, but what was a man without dreams?

For the near future, he intended to keep his haven in the club, until he could acquire a proper estate for Valeria in one of the communities close his Domain, in the suburbs housing the middle class and wealthy. In Pasadena. Or in Glendale. Or in Burbank. Somewhere where she could lead the live she was accustomed to. Once he'd Embraced her, such a location would also provide him with an additional haven – one where he'd be less likely to be sought for.

Currently, Alonzo was working on all those projects, with the professional – and very effective – help of Phillipe Navital. Salvador would have preferred to oversee the actions personally, but firstly, he needed to pick up Valeria – who had come of age during his long absence and was now the rightful heiress of an almost obscene amount of wealth – and secondly, Alonzo needed the distraction. Ferdinand's death had hit him hard. He'd begun to drift, and for a while Salvador was even afraid that he'd take a walk in the sun.

They were close, of course, closer than brood brothers, but Salvador knew he'd never be able to provide the fatherly presence Alonzo had had in Ferdinand. So, it was better to overload Alonzo with work and heap responsibility upon him to the breaking point, until they had a home of their own and Alonzo could begin to heal.

* * *

Reaching the Sorrel estate around sunset, Salvador was surprised to see a huge back limousine – with tinted glasses, no less – part in front of the house. _That_ was a luxury only the very rich could afford… and a necessity only a very special kind of rich people would _need_. The Prince of San Francisco's undead population, for example.

He could see the elegantly clad driver leaning against the car. It was a man in his early thirties, pale for someone living in California, and well-muscled, too. Not just a driver but also a bodyguard, then. Ventrue, most likely; a Gangrel couldn't wear those clothes with such ease. That left no doubt about the identity of the visitor.

But what would Archon Raine possibly want from these mortals?

Quietly like a ghost, Salvador slipped into the house, unseen by all but the old manservant of Sorrel Sr. who happened to be an old acquaintance of his. Antonio gestured towards the large, Mexican-style open veranda, where Sorrel preferred to meet his guests, unconsciously choosing a location that would make vampires uncomfortable. Salvador suppressed a grin. For an Anarch warrior like him, being exposed to sunlight was a familiar – albeit unpleasant – thing. The Camarilla establishment, however, had grown so used to their comfortable havens that they avoided exposure whenever they could… and felt irritated if they couldn't. And as every experienced fighter could tell you, irritation could be a serious disadvantage.

From his vantage point, hidden in the shadows of the adjoining dining room, Salvador studied the infamous Prince of San Francisco carefully. Archon Raine was a man in his late forties – well, in human appearance anyway – and just like Salvador himself, looked a lot larger than he actually was, due to a heavy build, big bones, a broad face and a high forehead. His thinning hair was neatly combed back from his face, revealing surprisingly large ears, and he was clad in the usual expensive suit all ranking Ventrue wore.

His companions couldn't have been more different, even with the help of theatre make-up. The big, muscular blond with long, wavy hair down to his shoulder blades was obviously a Gangrel lapdog, probably the chief bodyguard. Merely muscle, easily disposed. But the other one…

The other one was shortish, at least compared with the Prince or the Gangrel, with a hawkish profile, oily black hair slicked back from his widow's peak, and strangely mismatched eyes: one brown, one black. His sparse movements had the predatory grace of a trained assassin, and the man was literally oozing sexual magnetism… most unusual for the stuffy Ventrue suits. In fact, his mannerism reminded Salvador strongly of Alonzo.

A professional killer, then. Most likely the Enforcer of the Prince, probably his Childe, too, and fanatically devoted to him. If Archon Raine put up such a strong appearance, he most likely wanted to make a lasting impression. Intimidating the living hell out of the Sorrels. But what might he want of them?

Salvador listened carefully, and after a few minutes it became clear that the Prince wanted to buy the Sorrels off of the _Old Mission Winery_. Which the Sorrels, for their part, didn't want to sell. At all. It had been the property of the family for generations, and José Amendola Sorrel intended to keep it that way. His young son appeared to agree with him… rather loudly.

"Do you think we don't know where this sudden and unexpected interest for our little business comes, Seňor Raine?" Sorrel Jr. snorted. "You think we don't know that you're in league with the Luna family, who've tried to drive us out of the Valley for decades? Well, too bad for them and for you! We've been here long before John Luna came to fill the entire Valley with his get, and we'll still be here when all Lunas have faded to bad memory."

"Diego, restrain yourself," Sorrel Sr. warned his son, seeing the cold glitter in the mismatched eyes of Archon's killer.

Salvador saw it, too. The Enforcer had to be one of the Luna family. _That_ was the reason of the Prince's interest, then. He wanted to grant his pet executioner a favour, eradicating the concurrence of his mortal family. That was not good. Ventrue princes were used to get what they wanted, and the Sorrels had no idea whom – or moreso _what_ – they were dealing with. Salvador could only hope that Sorrel Sr. would remain diplomatic. He couldn't hope to take it up with _three_ powerful vampires. Archon himself was old and strong. The Gangrel was obviously an experienced street fighter. As for the Enforcer – that one had something unsettling in him. Something almost demonic. He was someone with a long-nurtured death wish who wasn't afraid of being killed – _and_ confident to be able to kill his opponent first, nevertheless.

"Forgive my son's lack of manners, Seňor Raine," Sorrel Sr. said with forced politeness. "He's young and hot-headed, not yet used to business negotiations. But in one thing he's right. We're not willing to sell our family business to you or your… associates. It has been the life-work and the only livelihood of our family for generations. Surely you can understand that?"

"And I'm sure _you_ can understand that you won't be able to withstand the financial powers behind the Luna family," Archon replied coldly.

Sorrel Sr. paled that the thinly veiled threat. It was true, he simply didn't have the means to beat someone of Archon Raine's wealth.

"He probably can't," a soft, husky female voice said, "but I most certainly can… that and more, if necessary."

All three vampires whirled around, and Salvador grinned in the shadows broadly. Valeria surely knew how to make a grand entrée.

* * *

The appearance of a new player made Archon Raine realize that he'd underestimated his mortal business adversary. None of his spies had alerted him for the existence of a financially strong partner backing the Sorrels – and yet here she was.

And man, did she have a presence!

She had that kid of exotic, utterly sensuous beauty that only daughters of old Hispanic families possessed, and only when they had a little Indio blood in their veins: a petite, slender figure that was yet pleasantly rounded in all the right places, a fine-boned, oval face with high cheekbones, a luscious red mouth, wide coffee-brown eyes and a thick mane of lush, wavy mahogany hair that she'd tied up to bring her long neck to the best effect. She wore a black dress of almost embarrassingly simple design – the sort that actually cost a stellar sum in the most expensive boutiques of the city – with a cream-coloured silk shawl around her bare shoulders and an antique golden ring with a small, white diamond on her slender, long-fingered hand. Most other women would have ruined the effect with additional jewellery, but she seemed to know exactly what suited her best.

"I don't think we've met before," she said in a low, sensuous voice and extended her hand in a manner that made it abundantly clear that she accepted it to be kissed. Old-fashioned as he was, Archon obeyed. "I'm Valeria Annunciata de Venango y Velez. I assume the name rings a bell, _si_?"

It did indeed. The Velez riches were legendary. The girl – she couldn't be much elder than twenty – could have bought him out of his every single business _and_ ruin the Luna winery without breaking a sweat. Especially as – since the recent unfortunate accident of her half-brother – she now owned everything that had ever belonged to her family.

And Archon had the vague impression that she would be more than willing to crush them financially, if provoked. Although her strong heartbeat, her body heat and the intoxicating scent of her blood revealed her as human, she radiated a strong, almost primal wildness that was characteristically Brujah. How come that the Rabble hadn't discovered her yet? Although she probably wouldn't suit the mob that swarmed the docks of San Francisco nowadays. She reminded of what Clan Brujah had once been: warrior-poets, fierce fighters and lore-masters. Young rebels, but also artisans of nearly Toreador propositions.

For his part, Archon was glad that most Brujah had long lost these nobler qualities. Becoming the mob, muscle-bound idiots, had made them weak. And Archon _preferred_ them weak. The possibility of the Brujah arising from the gutter again made him nervous.

"May I ask what interests do you have with the _Old Mission Winery_, Miss Velez?" he asked with false benevolence. "Why would you risk any financial losses, just to support such an insignificant little family business?"

Valeria gave a deep, throaty laughter that made all males present shiver. Archon could smell Julian's arousal, and that of Stevie Ray. The young Sorrel was emanating an entire cloud of pheromones, too, and Archon stomped down on his own interest ruthlessly. The girl was worse than a Toreador siren!

"Why?" Valeria repeated the question, amused. "Well, I do like a good challenge… but mostly, I'm protecting my own interests here. I happen to own thirty per cent of the _Winery_. Seňor Sorrel and my late father have been friends and business partners for many years; besides, he's my godfather." Which was an outright lie, but Valeria had recently detected that one shouldn't let simple truths get into the way of success.

"I see," Archon said slowly. "So, I guess I could not persuade you to sell me your percentage in the _Winery_, could I?"

"And allow you to have a foot in the door?" Valeria arched an elegant eyebrow. "Not a chance, seňor. I take family obligations very seriously. So, if I were you, I'd back off. Now."

Stevie Ray growled quietly, and Archon could feel Julian's rage brooding as well. That was not good. The insignificant Sorrels were one thing, but they couldn't just kill the heiress of the Velez empire and hope that nobody would notice. On the other hand, there were other solutions. He could Embrace the girl…. Dominate her into acceptance, and then secure her incredible wealth for himself.

'Why so hostile?" he murmured in a singsong voice. "We can open negotiations about this thing… and about other business opportunities…"

He could feel that she wasn't a resistor, not truly, but she did have a strong will nevertheless. Dominating her would he hard work, harder than he'd expected, more so since she seemed to have a strong aversion towards people who tried to force her to do anything. He signalled to Julian and Stevie Ray to keep the Sorrels out of his way. This would take time.

But just as he began to focus his powers on the girl, a deep, slightly rough baritone broke his concentration. "Valeria, don't look him in the eyes! He's trying to hypnotize you!"

His concentration broken, Archon turned around angrily, to see who'd dared to interfere. The newcomer was a large, dark-haired man, wearing casual clothes and a black duster. Slow, almost nonexistent heartbeat – a Kindred. But he had to be a powerful one, considering that he'd been able to conceal his presence from them. Who the hell could he be?

"Salvador!" Valeria squealed in delight and threw herself unceremoniously into the arms of the newcomer. "You've come back! It's about time!"

* * *

Surprised but also delighted over this heartfelt welcome, Salvador hugged Valeria tightly, kissing her brow, and let go of her again. He needed to keep his eyes on the Camarilla types. Antonio could take out one of the with the signal pistol – the lighting rockets worked better against vampires than any traditional projective weapon, igniting them on the spot – but that still left two for him. Unlike Antonio, who'd been a Brujah ghoul for more than thirty years, the Sorrels had no way to know how to fight the undead, and the ghoul girl he'd hired to serve as Valeria's handmaid was nowhere to see. For the sake of the mortals, solving the situation without a battle would be better.

"Archon Raine, I presume," he said calmly.

"That would be me," the Ventrue Prince replied. "And you are…"

"Just passing through," Salvador shrugged."

"That could be... inconvenient," Archon said slowly. "We don't like unannounced players show up in our city… interfering with our business…"

"We are not exactly _in_ the city," Salvador answered evasively," neither do I intend to get there… or stay here for any amount of time. I've come for Valeria."

"You have?" Valeria asked, her delight obvious. "I can finally return to Los Angeles?"

Salvador nodded. "Alonzo is currently looking for a proper mansion – or an estate – for you. Until then, I've booked a suit in the _Empire Hotel_ for you. You'll like it, I promise."

"Good," Valeria said with emphasis. "I've overused the hospitality of the Sorrels already… Although it seems I couldn't have come here at a better time. Can you do something so that these people cannot force them out of what is rightly theirs?"

"You don't need me for that," Salvador said. "That's what you have your lawyers for. I'll contact Phillipe Navital, once we're in L.A. He'll see to establish the necessary safeguards."

He could see Archon's head jerk in surprise. Phillipe Navital was a well-known lawyer In Kindred circles. Even other vampire lawyers avoided the confrontation with him in the courtroom if they could. Once he accepted a case, that case was practically won. Add the wealth of Valeria, and there was no way the Prince could bully his wish through the legal instances. Unless he wanted to risk breaking the Masquerade due to a violent, illegal action, all he could do was to back off.

Archon knew that too, of course. Salvador could see it on his stormy face. But a legal law firm – and one associated with the Camarilla, at that – could be a lot more dangerous for a Prince than any Anarch gang living within his Domain. It could ruin his public image, and that was something he couldn't afford.

"I'll have my lawyers contact Mr. Navital to work out a solution," he said. But Sorrel Sr. shook his head.

"No interest, Seňor Raine. Please leave my property, _now_. You might own half the city and control the local mob, but you can't frighten _me_. This winery has always belonged to our family, and so it shall remain."

"There's no need to exaggerate, Seňor Sorrel," Salvador intervened smoothly. "Seňor Raine most certainly doesn't control the local mob. The Rabble control themselves, isn't that so, Seňor Raine?"

"Indeed," Archon replied slowly.

Unlike the mortals, he could understand the subtle threat in the stranger's seemingly peaceful effort to smooth the waves. _Rabble_, that was the nickname given to Clan Brujah by other Kindred, and although they were in the Camarilla in San Francisco – well, more or less – the Prince couldn't really state that he _controlled_ them. The local Brujah, mostly thugs and hitmen they might be, only listened to their Primogen. If the Clan declared protection over a mortal, it meant bad news for anyone from any other Clan to touch that mortal. It could even lead to a Clan war, as many of the Rabble didn't really care what the cause was, as long as it gave them the excuse for a good fight and a little bloodshed.

Therefore, routined politician as he was, Archon Raine decided for a strategic withdrawal. He hated to disappoint Julian, but the _Winery_ was simply not worth to risk open fighting on the streets. This wasn't the time for a Clan war, with the Anarch revolt barely stomped down. The Luna family will have to put up with the Sorrels a little longer.

"I still would think about it again, if I were you, Mr. Sorrel," he said, in a manner that was practically admitting defeat. Then, turning to Salvador, he added. "As for you… I'd suggest that you leave the San Francisco are as soon as possible. You are not welcome here."

"He's always welcome in _my_ house," Sorrel Sr. prompted angrily, but Salvador raised a large hand to calm him down.

"That's all right, Seňor Sorrel. I don't intend to stay anyway," he handed the man a card. "Should you experience any further… problems, call this person. Just tell him _I've_ sent you, and he'll know what to do to protect your family. Now, if you don't mind, would you call Rosaria to help Seňorita Velez pack her suitcases?"

"Certainly, Seňor Garcia," the older Sorrel nodded and hurried away, leaving his son behind to keep an eye on the visitors, just in case.

Archon Raine, already on his way to the door, turned back and glared at the Anarch as if he'd see an Antediluvian rising from torpor in the middle of the room.

"Salvador Garcia? You are _Salvador Garcia_?"

Salvador raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. "I see my reputation has preceded me. Yes, I am Salvador Garcia. Is that a problem for you?"

"You _dare_ to set foot into my Domain?" Archon was so enraged that he became incautious. "After all that you and your cronies have done in Barcelona?"

Salvador shrugged. "I'm not afraid of your, Archon… or of the ones like you. It rather seems that _you_ are scared shitless of _me_ and my _compadres_. But rest assured, I have no intention to enter your Domain or to challenge you. I've come for my protegée, and with her I shall leave as soon as I can. Try to stand in my way and you'll suffer, even with your pet killers in tow."

Archon was clearly fuming in the inside, but to his credit, he knew how to pick his fights. They couldn't go for each other's throats with all the mortals around them, not without breaking the Masquerade that the Prince was sworn to protect. In a sense, his hands were bound.

"You have six hours to leave," he said sharply; then he added, for the younger Sorrel, before leaving, "This isn't over yet, youngling. I'm a patient man. I can wait."

End of Part One


	2. Chapter 2

**INHERITANCE 2**

**by Soledad**

**A "Pathways in the Dark" story**

**Part 02B of "The Anarch Chronicles". Follows "Daughter of the Night".**

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

**Rating:** Adults only, please.

**Summary:** Salvador and Valeria drive down to Los Angeles where certain secrets are revealed.

**Author's notes:**

Julian Luna's presence in the first part contradicts a little my other story, _Forgotten Roots_, in which Julian meets Salvador for the first time when the Anarch visits San Francisco to meet Cameron, in the later 1990s. However, I needed the guy there for this story to work. So I simply assumed that Julian would not realize he was dealing with the same person. A weak solution, I know, but still easier than rewriting the other story... which I may do one day, but not right now.

I've always wondered what caused the strong enmity between Archon Raine and the Manzanita Brujah. Canon never told us anything about it. So I tried my own approach – it could be as good as any, I guess. And yes, there will be results to that confrontation in later stories.

Again, this is a heavily edited chapter. Adult readers can find the original version on **_hiddenrealms_** as a friends-locked entry.

**

* * *

Part Two**

Within the hour, the ghoul girl, Rosaria, had Valeria's things packed – she could be extremely efficient when needed – and they were on their way to the south. Salvador calculated that they would need the entire night for the trip (his automobile was not _that_ fast) if he drove without a break and fed from Rosaria somewhere mid-way. Usually, he didn't need to feed more often than every second or third day, but he already had a long and exhausting trip behind him. Plus, he had to count on the Prince eventually setting a trap for them. It was better to get out of Archon's Domain as soon as possible.

He had left Antonio behind with detailed instructions about what to do to protect the Sorrels, and with he promise to send other ghouls to help him. He didn't want the San Francisco Brujah getting involved. Their Primogen belonged to Justin Davies' bloodline and Salvador wanted some small influence in San Francisco. That could come handy one day. Antonio was an intelligent man, despite his simple origins, and – having once been Ferdinand's ghoul – extremely loyal. He had also fought the undead before; he would hold out until reinforcements arrived.

Personally, Salvador had not particular interest in the Sorrels, although he would Embrace one of them – or both – if that was the only way to protect them. As they had protected Valeria while he had been otherwise occupied, giving her a home, a family and relative safety, even if only for a limited time span, he was in their debt, deeply. And Salvador Garcia always paid his debts, no mater the costs.

Rosaria had built a makeshift bed on the back seats for the seòorita, so that Valeria – now clad in a comfortable full skirt and a _poncho_, Mexican-style – could sleep all the way. She even slept through Salvador's "lunch break", a fifteen-minute pause held outside the small town of Sunnydale. It lay almost exactly in the middle of their way from San Francisco to Los Angeles, and Salvador wanted to be well-fed and at his best when driving along, even though they didn't actually drive _through_ the town itself. The _Boca del Inferno_, lying directly under the town centre, was one of the worst Sabbat nests in California, and also the breeding and dwelling place of various ugly and malevolent demons. He didn't want to encounter any of them, but he intended to be prepared, just in case.

Fortunately, they had passed the Hellmouth without incident – to tell the truth, he was driving like a madman, as fast as the automobile could take it – and reached Los Angeles just an hour after sunrise. Salvador was drained, not just because of the all-night-long drive, but also because of the possible dangers he might have to face alone. Brave and fierce Valeria might be, but she wouldn't be much help against the Sabbat – or the Prince's killers. And Rosaria wasn't a fighter to begin with. She wasn't _supposed_ to be one. She had been carefully chosen and taught to be the handmaid of a high-ranking Brujah woman. Like one Valeria was supposed to become one day.

But now they finally were in the safety of Los Angeles, a city with a strong Anarch presence, ruled by a so-called Prince whose influence was limited to the Downtown area, and for the first time in a very long while, Salvador allowed himself to relax. Alonzo was waiting for them in the marble-paved foyer of the luxurious _Empire Hotel_, looking as if he'd spent his entire unlife in such places. His relief upon seeing them, safe and sound, was obvious.

"Our haven is ready and waiting," he told Salvador. "And I've found several possible mansions and estates for Valeria. She'll have to take a look and choose the one she likes best."

"It's not urgent," Valeria eyed the luxurious surroundings appreciatively. "I'd like to enjoy my suite for a few days first. But," she added, turning to Salvador, "before we start anything new here, we need to speak. In private."

"Of course," the vampire nodded. "Would today at sunset suffice? That would give you some time to unpack."

"I don't intend to do much unpacking," Valeria shrugged. "Besides, that's what I have Rosaria for. But around sunset would be convenient, I think… for both of us."

"What could she have meant with _that_?" Salvador wondered, after they had taken their leave from the girls and were driving over to East LA, this time with Alonzo behind the steering wheel.

Alonzo shrugged. "That's hard to tell. Are you really sure that she's a resistor?"

"Had you asked me a year ago, my answer would have been a clear yes," Salvador replied thoughtfully. "Now, however… I'm not that sure anymore. An average mortal would have broken under Archon's mental assault within seconds."

"She was able to resist Ventrue mind-games?" Alonzo was impressed.

"For a moment or two only… but yes, she was. On the other hand, _I was_ able to make her forget what happened between us… that I nearly killed her in my crazed Thirst. So maybe she's just really strong-willed."

"Good for a Brujah candidate," Alonzo commented. "And as you're planning to Embrace her anyway, It wouldn't matter even if she'd kept some fragmented memories from your first encounter. She won't harm you, at any case… on the contrary. I think she's interested in you."

"You think so?" Salvador asked in pleasant surprise. The difference of their mortal ages didn't bother him, and he knew it wouldn't bother Valeria either. Young women of her age and social status often married considerably older men. It was a tradition among the rich. A stable financial background was important. One always could keep fiery young lovers to balance out the failings of an aging husband. That was a tradition, too.

"I'm fairly sure," Alonzo grinned. "There's a hunger in her eyes when she looks at you… and that speculative look reserved for future husbands."

"Well, I couldn't exactly marry her," Salvador grinned back, "but I'm sure she'll appreciate the advantages of our existence, once I've Embraced her. She has so much fire in her, so much passion – she couldn't live as a homemaker, not even as an outrageously rich one."

They both laughed, and then Alonzo turned the automobile to the left and parked it in front of the simple, two-floor building.

"Speaking of home," he said with almost convincing causality, "here is ours."

* * *

It took Salvador less than ten minutes to decide that he liked _A Taste of LA_. The club occupied the entire ground floor of the building, and resembled a European coffeehouse. It had a well-tended wooden floor, and the tables were widely spaced, to allow for private conversations. The lamps had matte glass screens, keeping the lights low… more than enough for vampire eyesight, but putting mortals to a disadvantage. 

Presently, the club was closed, with only the managers, Murray and Alexis Goldfarb in the room. Salvador greeted them heartily; they had been Ferdinand's ghouls, who'd saved them from Prague, a long time ago. As Ferdinand's only living Childe (_living_ being relative in his case, of course), Salvador practically inherited his Sire's excellent network of ghouls who'd simply transferred their loyalty to the heir.

The Goldfarbs were no exception. They'd run financial transactions for Ferdinand – especially Murray was very talented in business matters – and seemed excited by the chance to run a club. They chatted a little, then the Goldfarbs showed their master the rooms upstairs, one for Salvador, one for Alonso and one for them each. The rooms were still sparsely furnished, which Salvador found good. He preferred to select his own furniture and other accessories of creature comfort. The windows not only had heavy curtains but also wooden shutters which could be closed from the inside, making the rooms vampire friendly.

"Looks very nice," Salvador told his managers, and Alexis' eyes lit up in delight. The younger Goldfarb always needed a lot of reassurance, unlike Murray who wasn't a bit shy, despite all the ugliness he'd had gone through during his mortal his life. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to feed and rest. It's been a long trip, and I've got to meet Valeria at sunset in the hotel."

"Shall I wake you an hour before sunset?" Alexis offered shyly, while Murray hurriedly produced a bottle of excellent bloodwine for their master.

"That would be nice, thanks," Salvador agreed. Not that he'd need it; every vampire could feel the approach of both sunrise and sunset, even in their sleep. But it made Alexis happy to do these small tasks, so why shouldn't he allow him to do so?

The boy – being a ghoul, Alexis remained permanently seventeen in appearance – blushed a little, which looked well on his thin, almost vampire-pale face and turned away in embarrassment. He was truly beautiful with his porcelain skin, lush dark waves of hair, huge dark eyes and long eyelashes – like a girl, or like an angel out of some old legend. It was hard to believe that people had been actually willing to murder this lovely and shy creature, just because he was a Jew, but again, Salvador had seen too much ugliness and mindless cruelty to be surprised by anything humans war capable of doing.

"I bet he'll wake you way before sunset," Alonzo grinned, after the Goldfarbs had left them alone. "Or he'll return before you had to chance to catch any sleep. He'd been anxious to have you back. Asked about you all the time."

"Do you want a round first?" Salvador offered. "He wouldn't mind, you know."

"Na, I'm beat," Alonzo replied. "need to sleep badly… and then I'll go Hunting, and perhaps seek out some female company." He rose, his fangs dropping. "Let me have a taste before I go?"

"Always," Salvador kissed him, slicing his tongue on Alonzo's incisors in the process to allow him a taste of his Vitae. They needed to rebound after a few days apart, to re-establish their mental link.

"Go now and sleep," he said, patting his friend's shapely ass. "I need to speak with Valeria alone, but I'll tell you everything afterwards."

Alonzo nodded. "Good luck," he said and left.

As Alonzo had predicted, Alexis returned to Salvador's bedroom shortly thereafter, to offer his more… intimate services. As always, he slipped into the room as quietly as a ghost and began to take off his clothes without a word. A shake of Salvador's head would have been enough to stop him and make him leave again, as mutely as he had come – offering himself to another man, even to his beloved master, was something he still was very shy about, as it was considered a sin in his faith. But unlike Ferdinand's other ghouls, who were now following Salvador out of loyalty towards his bloodline, Alexis truly loved him, with the unconditional devotion of an emotionally suppressed youngling, and his yearning for Salvador's touch was in eternal conflict with the beliefs in which he had been raised.

The vampire was not adverse to take the shy and beautiful youngling to his bed. Alexis brought out his gentler side like nobody else did. So, even though he felt the need to have some rest, soon, he allowed Alexis to stay for a while. They needed to re-bound, after all. The Case might be lost in Spain, but unlife was still very good.

* * *

It was near sunset when he woke again. Alexis was gone, the sheets changed – he didn't even ask how the boy had done that without waking him. Alexis had his unique ways of doing things to his utmost satisfaction. Literally, and in various areas. The bathroom door stood open, and – based on the pleasant warmth wafting through it – his bath had been already prepared. The unopened bottle of bloodwine stood on the bedside table, with a glass. Among other useful skills, Alexis also knew what creature comforts a tired vampire needed. 

After a long, leisurely bath and half a bottle of bloodwine Salvador changed into his best suit – the _Empire Hotel_ had quite rigorous dress requirements – and asked Murray to drive him. He didn't know L.A. well enough to drive alone yet, and he didn't want to wake Alonzo.

"Tell him to fetch me before sunrise," he ordered, and Murray bowed respectfully.

"As you wish, Master Garcia."

Salvador shook his head in fond exasperation. He'd told both Goldfarbs countless times to call him by his given name but there was no use. Not even in bed could Alexis bring himself doing it.

* * *

They reached the hotel in less than thirty minutes, and the vampire entered the luxurious foyer full of men in tuxedos and ladies in evening dresses. As he looked around for Valeria, he was unexpectedly approached by a tall, slender man with wavy dark hair that reached to his collar. The man wore a white dinner jacket and moved around with a timeless grace seldom seen in these days. 

"_Monsieur_ Garcia?" he asked with a soft French accent.

Salvador nodded in mild surprise. "Yes, I am. And you would be?"

"Louis Fortier," the Frenchman's handshake was firm, his hand not any warmer than Salvador's own, his heartbeat inhumanly slow – a vampire. "Louis Charles Fortier de la Belliere, to be more accurate. Not that the title would mean much, of course; my older brother inherited it, together with the castle and the debts of the family."

"I've heard of you," Salvador said. "You're the Ventrue Primogen here; a French soldier from the eighteenth century, Embraced by a female Indian shaman, which saved you from sharing the fate of your murdered men."

"That about sums it up," Fortier nodded, his green eyes narrowing. "And I know a great deal about you, too… including the most recent events in Barcelona."

"Do you?" Salvador said. "And what exactly does this mean for the two of us? I know you're an influential man in this city… and that you're with the Camarilla. So, what could you possibly want from me?"

"I want a truce," Fortier said. "I might be with the Camarilla, but I'm far from satisfied with the way Don Sebastian and his fellow decadents try to rule this city."

"Really?" Salvador frowned. "Why is that?"

"His methods to keep the Sabbat out of LA are ineffective," Fortier replied grimly. "Individual Blood Hunts jut won't do the trick. We need the support of the Anarch gangs, as many of them as possible. You and your… associates are the most powerful Anarch in the city. I want that power on my side."

"You would ally yourself with a Brujah Anarch?" Salvador asked doubtfully. "You do realize, of course, that I've been fighting your people all my unlife?"

"Of course I know that," Fortier nodded. "But I've lived through the Sabbat takeover in New York, and there's nothing that could be worse. Absolutely nothing. I'd ally myself with anyone with some sort of morale to keep those monsters out of my City."

"_Your_ City?" Salvador repeated with a questioningly raised eyebrow.

"Well, I can state with sufficient authority that West-Los Angeles is my own Domain," Fortier said dryly. "But I'd prefer a strong Anarch presence in other parts of the City to a Sabbat infiltration. I heard that you intend to declare East-LA to your Domain?"

"What if I am?" Salvador asked calmly. Fortier raised a soothing hand.

"I'll respect your claim. And I offer you an alliance. As the ministers of East and West LS, we could bring up enough power to move against infalling Sabbat packs together."

"I still fail to see what I might be gaining by such an alliance," Salvador said. He could deal with the Sabbat on his own. He had done so often enough.

"I can help you build up your own little empire in East-LA," Fortier replied. "I happen to own the Bank of Lyon, which does have a strong financial presence in this city. And I van introduce your little Mademoiselle Velez to the right circle of financial nobility where she _will_ have to move, whether as a mortal or as a Brujah. I assume you are intent on Embracing her one day?"

"In the not too far future," Salvador said calmly. Fortier nodded.

"That would be the best for her… with no mortal kin left to take care of her business. But people will try to snatch her away from you. You know that."

"They're welcome to try," Salvador said icily.

"I know you won't give her up without a fight," Fortier said. "However, I can help you to limit the number of fights. As you've said, I've quite the influence in Los Angeles."

"I'm just trying to guess the extent of that influence," Salvador replied. "Very well, Senor Fortier. Let's have a truce, for the beginning. As for an alliance… we'll see. I don't want to become your enemy. But I don't trust you enough to all you a friend, or even an ally, just yet."

"Rest assured that the feeling is mutual," Fortier replied with an ironic smile. "This is a beginning, however. And we have time to work out the exact details later. It's not so as if we'd need to worry about getting older, after all."

"For which I'll be eternally grateful, _mon cher_," a soft, supremely feminine voice, with the same French accent as Fortier's, said, and a tall, honey-blonde woman touched the French vampire's arms. "Would you mind introducing us to each other, Louis?"

"Your wish is my command, _ma chérie_," Fortier smiled. "_Monsieur_ Garcia, this is my… protégée, Mademoiselle DuBois. Catherine, greet Salvador Garcia."

Protégée was an often-used euphemism for Childe when among humans; besides, Mlle DuBois had that elusive elegance only a French Ventrue of _really_ good breeding could possess. She had green eyes, elegant features and a perfect complexion – and she emanated a sexual magnetism that could have put a Toreador siren to shame. Wearing a sleeveless black gown that left her entire back bare and her silky hair in a French knot on the nape of her long, graceful neck, she was the quintessence of wealth and beauty.

"_Enchantée_," she said, proffering a slim, perfumed hand to Salvador to be kissed. "I've just made the acquaintance of your Mlle Velez here," she nodded towards the table where Valeria was sitting with a glass of wine. "She's the most extraordinary young lady – an excellent choice indeed."

"Catherine, how often have I told you already to stop interfering with other people's unlives?" Fortier frowned. Mlle DuBois shrugged, which, considering the design of her dress, was a somewhat reckless movement. For a moment, her small, milky white breasts came dangerously close to the rim of her bodice. Salvador was certain that it had been a calculated move.

"You worry too much," she said to Fortier. "The girl is ripe for plucking… in more than one way. She won't need much persuasion."

"Neither would you, by the sight of it," Fortier growled. Mlle DuBois gave him a strangely compassionate look.

"_Mon cher_ Louis. After all those years, you still can't understand that you don't own me."

"I'm your… patron," Fortier said through gritted teeth, stopping himself just short of saying _your Sire_. Mlle DuBois nodded.

"_C'est vrai_; and I love you dearly. But I never promised monogamy; and never will." Turning to Salvador, she added. "I live in Louis' house and would be delighted if you came to visit me… with or without Mademoiselle Velez. _Au revoir_."

She turned around and left, with a graceful and yet provocative gait that ensured that both men would stare at her perfect rear swaying under the back silk of her gown, till she vanished from sight.

Salvador shook his head in tolerant amusement before joining his own protégée. Aristocrats! They never changed, whether alive or undead.

"Forgive my tardiness," he said, sitting down to Valeria's table. "I've been… delayed."

"Yes, I could see that," there was a strange gleam in Valeria's eyes – jealousy? Well, that could prove… useful.

"I was a bit surprised myself," Salvador admitted. "I've heard of Senor Fortier before, of course, but I didn't expect him to seek me out. Not this early on, that is."

"I believe he just grabbed the opportunity," Valeria said. "According to Senorita DuBois, they've had a business meeting here. Fortier owns the Bank of Lyon, apparently."

"Yes, he just told me so," Ventrue were usually in some sort of business, and one as old as Fortier could be expected to be wealthy, but Salvador was still a little amazed by the fact that the other vampire would be _that_ rich.

Valeria smiled, clearly impressed. "Did he tell you about the other things he owns as well? He's in real estate business, too."

Salvador suppressed a grin. Valeria's own keen sense of business had surfaced for a moment, instinctively seeking out the company of her own league. Perhaps she could be persuaded one day to actually _care_ for her own wealth.

"I see you've made quick friends with Senorita DuBois," he said.

Valeria pulled a face. "She was the one to approach me. I can't say that I'd particularly like her."

"Why not? She's convent-breed like yourself, comes from noble and rich circles than yourself…"

"She's… uncanny," Valeria said. "Like a poisonous snake. She gives me the shivers. But I'll keep contact to her if you want me to."

"That's not necessary," Salvador replied. "I can manage my relations with Fortier directly. You should find your own friends as you please. Now, can you tell me what it was you wanted to discuss with me? Or do you need more privacy for that?"

"No, we can talk here, as long as we do it quietly," Valeria placed her wine glass on the table. "I need some answers, Salvador."

"And you think I can provide them?" Salvador asked in surprise. Valeria nodded.

"Yes, I do think so. Because, you see, I've only started having these weird dreams since I met you for the first time. There has to be a connection."

"Dreams," Salvador repeated slowly. Damn it, he knew it was going too easily. Valeria might not be a _resistor_, but he should have known that her suppressed memories would begin to resurface. Well, he _did_ know it would happen, of course. He just hadn't expected it happening so soon. "What kind of dreams?"

"Dreams about a wolf tearing out my throat and drinking my blood," Valeria answered, her large eyes fixed on the man's face unblinkingly. "A bat stopping the wolf before it could kill me for good. The same wolf tearing apart a pack of rabid dogs that are attacking me. That sort of dreams."

"I see," Salvador said slowly. It was worse than he'd thought.

"Do you have any idea what could be the meaning of this?" Valeria asked.

"I might," Salvador decided to tell her the truth; well, _part_ of the truth anyway. "I just don't know how much I can tell you without endangering your life."

"Hmmm," Valeria's tone became thoughtful. "What if I asked questions and you answered with yes or no? That way, you won't have to tell me anything I haven't figured out already."

Salvador thought about it. It made sense, under the circumstances. One day Valeria would learn the whole truth, of course. But he was truly curious how much she had already figured out on her own. She was a bright girl.

"All right," he said. Valeria gave him a serene smile.

"_Graçias_. Now, let's begin with the easy part. The dogs stand for Manolo's thugs who've attacked me, don't they?"

"Yes," there was no use denying the blatantly obvious.

"They didn't just run away when you arrived, did they?" Valeria asked in a manner that told him that she knew the answer already.

Nevertheless, he answered her. "No, they didn't."

"Have you killed them all?" Valeria asked, paling a little, but her voice remained steady. Salvador gave her a wry half-smile.

"Not _all_ of them. There were at least four that _you've_ killed."

"True enough," Valeria admitted. "Still, there were at least a dozen of them left. How did you…"

"I can become… dangerous when in a rage," Salvador shifted positions uncomfortably. "What they were planning for you… Other people did the same to my little sister. I arrived too late to save _her_. I was there in time for _you_."

"Are you telling me that you simply went berserk and killed twelve or more men in a fit of rage?" Valeria asked unbelievingly.

"That's the truth," Salvador said with a mental shrug. _Or as close to the truth as currently possible_, he added in thought.

"You are the wolf then?" she continued.

"you can say that," Salvador suppressed a smile. Like most Kindred, he _was_ able to turn into a wolf, or a bird of prey.

"Why have you attacked _me_ then?" Valeria asked. There was no accusation in her voice, just bewilderment.

"It didn't happen on purpose," Salvador replied carefully. "When I'm like that, I can't always make a distinction between friend and foe."

"Does this happen to you frequently?" Valeria was clearly uncomfortable, but who could blame her? She'd just realized that she had kept company with someone who could be a crazed mass murderer.

Salvador shook his head. "That was the first time in almost twenty years. I have a fairly good grip on it now. It needs a strong trigger to break lose – like the memory of what happened to my sister."

Valeria shot him a doubtful look. "What about the blood-drinking part?"

Salvador shrugged. "That is a question I cannot answer."

"Cannot or would not?" Valeria asked sharply.

The vampire shrugged again. "It is _your_ dream, not mine."

"Perhaps. But you're not telling me the whole truth."

"Perhaps you're not asking the right questions."

"Very well. Who's the bat, then?"

"Some homeless person brave – or foolish – enough to beak my fugue."

"Is he still alive?"

"I haven't killed him," Salvador said, according to the truth. This was not the time to tell Valeria that the small Nosferatu had been dead for several centuries.

Valeria was still glaring at him in suspicion. "There's more, isn't it? Things you aren't telling me."

"It's only for your own safety," Salvador sidestepped the question with practiced ease. "I'm a dangerous man who does dangerous things. The less you know about them, the safer you are."

"It's not the _things_ you do I want to know more about," Valeria said slowly. "It's _you_ I want to know better. The person who's hidden behind your calm façade."

"You know me in a way perhaps nobody else does," Salvador said. "You know the person I was meant to be. Who I could have become, had fate not intervened. Is that not enough?"

"For the moment, perhaps," Valeria said. "But I _will_ learn all your other faces, whether you want me to know them or not." She leaned over the table and kissed him lightly. "I find you intriguing. And I want to know you… to _really_ know you."

TBC


End file.
